


Patterns of Care

by vulcanhearted (wildewinged)



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, New Year's Eve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-01
Updated: 2014-01-01
Packaged: 2018-01-07 00:14:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1113198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildewinged/pseuds/vulcanhearted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A time Leonard took care of Jim, a time Jim took care of Leonard, and how they end up caring for each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Patterns of Care

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hollyhawke](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollyhawke/gifts).



> A little birthday present for my darling Holly - I hope you enjoy!!

It's Leonard's first night in the tiny room he's going to have to live in for the next four years, and sleep is hard enough with the faint wet chill of a San Francisco night seeping through the wide windowpane. The perky rap at the door, repeating a tripping little pattern even as he tries to ignore it, is too much. He drags himself, regretful, from the nest of blankets that had only just begun to get warm. It better be goddamn important. 

"Who'sit," he growls, yanking open the door. Then, "Oh fuck no." 

It's that kid from the shuttlecraft, vivid blue eyes unforgettable. He's beaming hopefully, too pretty a picture even at two in the morning with a lingering purple puffiness around his eye. And there's that stupid, reflexive concern, just like on the shuttle, when he'd spotted the drops of dried blood on his shirt. 

"Hey, Bones," Kirk says, leaning in the doorway in such a way that any attempt at closing the door - an appealing option right now - would be impeded by his arm. Leonard wonders if Kirk gets a lot of doors slammed in his face. 

"Not my name," is what he says. "What d'you want?" He's in no mood for barhopping or exploring or whatever else Kirk's likely after - and how the hell did he figure out where his room was, anyway? 

"I was just poking around the student database" - well, that explains that - "when I noticed your name, and I thought I'd check up on ya." Kirk's smile is bright and too innocent. "How're you doing?" 

"Fine, 'til I got my sleep interrupted," Leonard says. "That all?" He makes to close the door - Kirk can damn well get out of the way - but he throws a palm up to stop it. 

"About that," he says, note of fluster entering his voice. "I'm having problems sleeping." 

Leonard sighs. "I'm not on duty, and I'm sure you can find the clinic just fine." 

Jim huffs a laugh and waves his hand dismissively. "Oh, it's not a medical thing, it's a roommate thing. Mine snores." He gives pleading, wide eyes that Leonard's not bothered to decipher at the moment. 

"Don't see why you're here, then." Kirk's mouth crooks in a way he's rapidly becoming familiar with, a slight little smirk that speaks of mischief and wild ideas. "No, don't you start. Spit it out, I'm fuckin' exhausted." 

Kirk deflates a bit, but he does get to the point. Finally. "Can I sleep in your room?" 

"Nope." Leonard goes to close the door again - rude it may be, but he's _tired,_ dammit. 

Suddenly there's a foot in the jamb. "Please?" Kirk says. " _I_ don't snore, I swear. Just for tonight, I can go to the res office and beg for a new room tomorrow." With those big blue puppy eyes, Leonard's sure he'll manage it. 

"Fine," he sighs. Anything to get himself back in bed. He pulls the door open wide, and Kirk skips in with a bright "Thanks, Bones, I owe you one!" and a clap on the shoulder. Leonard gives himself a moment to take deep, calming breaths before he closes the door and turns back to the room. 

_"NO,"_ he barks immediately, rushing over to where Kirk's already stripped down to t-shirt and boxers and is climbing into _his bed._

Kirk has the goddamn _nerve_ to pout at him, sitting in the mussed pile of blankets Leonard had abandoned. "Where'm I supposed to go, the floor?" 

Leonard huffs, looking around the bare-bones room as if he can conjure a couch or chair or fucking anywhere else but his tiny twin bed. Obviously that doesn't work, and he doesn't have the heart to make this bruised-up mess of a kid curl up on the cold floor. "Okay, you can stay there. But if you try to steal the blankets I'm kickin' ya right out." The threat's softened by a yawn he can't stop, and he catches Kirk's grin before he can hide it behind his hand. 

"Alright, scoot," he says, and Kirk obediently makes as much room as he can. There's a predictably awkward shuffle as they try to fit, with Kirk jabbing bony knees into sensitive places more than once. They end up on their sides, Kirk spooned up behind Leonard with one arm slung over his waist, breath warm against his neck. It's less uncomfortable than he expected it'd be, even if (especially since?) Kirk's all clingy octopus limbs as he starts to drift off. 

Kirk doesn't snore, though he does snuffle a little, soft little huffs that tickle the nape of Leonard's neck. 

\---

"Hey there Bonesy, we're just about there, okay," Jim croons, and Leonard swats ineffectually at him. Ineffectually, because he's a little drunk and got hit in the head a couple times and he's feeling kind of stupid right now, arm slung over Jim's shoulder and blood sticky on his face. He doesn't need to be babied, though. 

"M'fine, don' call me that," he mumbles, slumping against Jim's side once they've reached Leonard's door. Jim's hand roots in his pocket for a second before coming up with his keycard, swiping it and replacing it before Leonard can complain. 

Jim sweeps him over to the couch he'd gotten a week into the semester - had to, because Jim had gotten himself a new room, but apparently decided he liked Leonard's better. Leonard' s head lolls back and his eyes slide shut - he thinks a nap sounds mighty good right about now. A second later Jim's got two hot palms on his cheeks, blue overtaking his vision. 

"Hey, none of that 'til I've fixed you up," Jim says seriously. His brow quirks. "Aren't I supposed to be the one who gets in bar fights?" 

"Yeah, n'then I haveta patch up yer dumb ass," Leonard says. It comes out all drawl-y, and he idly wonders if he's got a concussion. Probably not. 

Jim laughs. "Yep. And yell at me, right?" He lets go of Leonard's face to root around in the medkit he must have pulled out at some point. "You'll be happy to know my bedside manner is much nicer than yours." 

Leonard huffs. "You take care'f you for a week, see how your bedside manner is." Jim fumbles with the tricorder for a minute before the whirr of its sensors starts up, and Leonard blinks down at him. Jim's hand ended up on his knee at some point, a warm, steady weight. 

"No concussion," Jim finally says, squinting at the readout. "Good. Didn't want to haul you to the clinic after all of this."

Leonard nods fervently, in spite of the throbbing in his head that sets off. Christine would've skinned him alive. 

Jim ducks into the bathroom, back in a minute with a damp washcloth. Leonard reaches to take it but gets his hand swatted at for his trouble. He frowns. "I can wash my own face, thanks."

Jim raises an eyebrow. "Yup, but I'm gonna do it anyway." His pointed stare brooks no argument, and Leonard subsides with a grumble. 

The dab of the washcloth is cool on the painful swelling on his cheekbone, a sharp pain on the split in his puffy lip. Jim frowns apologetically as he works, the other hand curling around Leonard's neck to steady him. 

"Y'know, that move was stupid enough for me, but I kinda thought you'd know better," Jim says after a minute of this, voice soft. 

Leonard frowns, letting his head be angled up so Jim can swipe at the dried blood on his jaw. "Guess m'not as smart as you think I am." 

"Still." Jim's hand stills, pulling the cloth away. "You didn't have to do that. People say stupid shit all the time, no need to give 'em the satisfaction." He's too close, those eyes piercing him right to the core. Leonard can barely breathe. 

"Didn't like what they were sayin' about you," Leonard finally mumbles. He holds Jim's stare, catches the twist of his lips out of the corner of his eye. 

"I'm - it's not worth you getting beat up, okay?" Jim says. There's a painful, pleading note in his voice; Leonard can't stand it. 

"S'worth it to me," he says, soft, as Jim finishes and sits back. Jim's mouth quirks, a smile in appearance if not in spirit. 

"Let's get you to bed," Jim says. "Do you want any pain meds?" 

"Nah, I'm fine," Leonard says. His face is only smarting a little now; the harsher burn comes from this idiot's refusal to believe he's important, and no hypo's gonna fix that. Jim watches as he tugs off jeans and jacket, like he's gonna fall right down without that stare holding him up. Self-conscious, Leonard turns to the bed, only to jerk back around at the click of the door opening. 

"Where're you going?" he asks. Jim pauses with his hand on the knob, face shadowed. "C'mon back, don't be a fool." Difficult as it is to admit, he's grown used to Jim's presence in his space, the soft huff of his sleep-heavy breaths, even if they're across the room on the couch now. 

Turning back, Jim pulls the door closed behind him, and Leonard smiles sleepily. "Thanks." 

Jim blinks. "Yeah, no problem, Bones." He pulls off his own jacket and tosses it over the back of the couch, tugging off his jeans and doing the same with them. Leonard watches, and debates with himself. With his pride, in particular. 

"Jim?" His friend's eyes shine bright in the light from the window as he looks up, and Leonard swallows. "D'you wanna" - shakes his head, tries again - "D'you wanna share the bed?" 

The room is unbearably still as Jim pauses. "Okay, if that's what you want," he says carefully, and Bones simply sighs out a breath and settles under the blankets, suddenly too exhausted to stay up a moment longer. He's already drifting off when Jim slides into the bed, a line of welcome warmth all down his back. 

\---

It's 11:45 on New Year's Eve and Leonard's in his room alone; he's got no taste for the wild parties going on all over the campus. Gaila and Christine and Jim had each tried and failed to get him out, each of them with their own brand of persuasion. He was determined, though: he didn't feel like getting drunk, didn't want to put on a happy (or at least what Gaila referred to as his "only slightly homicidal") face, and he especially didn't want to watch the exuberant, playful smooching that'd happen at midnight. 

Jim seemed to buy the "still smarting from the divorce" line, and that was true, to a degree. He missed the easy comfort of Jocelyn, the champagne-flavored kisses they used to exchange when the ball dropped. Gaila and Christine, though, he was pretty sure knew the truer reason. Hard to hide such a ridiculous infatuation from _everyone,_ he supposed. At least Jim himself seemed oblivious - a blessing and a curse. 

So here he was, getting ahead on next semester's reading and trying to shut out the raucous, cheerful din outside his door. 

Outside his door that was being rapped at in a familiar, tripping rhythm. 

Leonard stares at the door like it's a mirage, as it almost certainly must be. He gets up as if in a dream and opens the door to Jim, whose hand is still raised to knock. Leonard blinks. 

"What are you -" is all he gets out before Jim charges into the room, pacing wildly as he talks over Leonard. 

"So I was at the party, you know, except it wasn't really fun, I mean Gaila was hilarious and Christine was drinking everyone under the table and Uhura actually smiled at me, but I was just - off. And I figured it out, what was wrong." Jim stops in his tracks, bright eyes pinning Leonard in place by the door. 

"What was wrong?" Leonard echoes, after Jim doesn't continue, just stands there breathing hard. Jim grins like he was waiting, and stalks forward. 

He stops a hair-raising inch before he'd bump into Leonard, cheeks flushed and golden hair ruffled and those _eyes_ burning in his face. "You weren't there," he says softly, and raises a hand, brushes it feather-light over Leonard's cheek. 

The bell on the campus clock tower tolls its first chime of the new year, Jim's head turning reflexively toward the noise, and Leonard thinks, _fuck it._ He tugs Jim's head back towards him, slams his eyes closed, and presses forward in a breathless kiss that lasts one chime, two chimes, three. 

They break apart, both breathing hard, Jim wide-eyed and distractingly puffy-lipped when Leonard finally opens his eyes. Leonard swallows nervously, and then Jim breaks into a wide, eye-crinkling grin. "Have you wanted to do that for long?" he asks playfully, and Leonard blinks, speech cut off for the moment by the rising swell of hope in his chest. "Because I have," Jim adds. 

With that, everything comes rushing back, and Leonard lunges forward to kiss Jim again, growling out "damn right I have" between hot presses of their mouths. He delights in the familiar little huff of laughter he gets, the new sensation of feeling it against his lips, Jim's hands sliding over his shoulders, hot through his thin t-shirt. 

The last chime rings through the air, and Jim tucks his head into the curve of Leonard's neck, breath sighing out when Leonard slides his arms snug around Jim's waist. "Good New Year's?" Jim murmurs into his neck. 

Leonard smiles, and presses a kiss to Jim's temple. "The best."


End file.
